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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25084012">Lay Me Down, Be the Only Sound</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Borderlinemediocre/pseuds/Borderlinemediocre'>Borderlinemediocre</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Men's Football RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, Crying, Food Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Obsession, Painter Dejan, Pining, Piss kink, Thief Šime, painter au, piss as lube</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:15:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,841</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25084012</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Borderlinemediocre/pseuds/Borderlinemediocre</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yes. I want to paint him.” </p><p>“Sure that’s a good idea?”</p><p>Dej ignores the question. “I also wanna fuck him.”</p><p>*</p><p>Based loosely on the documentary "The Painter and the Thief"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dejan Lovren/Šime Vrsaljko</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. No Way to Feed It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dejan didn’t know what he was expecting, really. He only went to the trial to give the few facts he had about his stolen paintings, and move on with his life. </p><p>Except now, sitting on the stand and looking at the face of the thief- the breathtaking thief- he’s hesitant. Dejan has never believed in locking people away for things like this. The man is clearly no threat to society. He has tattoos, but so does Dejan himself. The thief’s hair is messy, his eyes are tired, but he’s young. People deserve to be able to make stupid mistakes like this; it’s part of growing up. </p><p>He gives short answers to the rest of the questions from the lawyers, hoping he can at least play a small part in getting the man off easy. The thief looks appreciative, smiling at Dej as he goes back to his seat.</p><p>As he leaves the courtroom the man’s name sticks with him- Šime. He thinks of that name leaving his lips as he kisses the thief, grabbing some of that messy hair. He’s so fixated on that name- those lips- that he gets lost on the way out of the courthouse.</p><p>*</p><p>“So? They putting him away for good?” Dejan’s wife’s question grates on him immediately, and he’s never been good at toning himself down. </p><p>“No, he’s not a murderer, he’s just a kid. Couple months, plus community service.”</p><p>“He deserves more than that. Stupid thief.” </p><p>Dejan takes a breath before he answers. He really has no reason to defend this man. He doesn’t know him, doesn’t know why he stole two of Dejan’s most treasured paintings in the middle of the night. But something in the stranger’s face made him sympathetic, almost protective. </p><p>“He- he got what he deserved.” Dej is surprised he managed to keep his answer so civil. He heads to his studio upstairs without another word.</p><p>He has a few unfinished paintings at the moment but none he feels like continuing. He can’t get the thief- Šime’s- face out of his mind. He sits and sketches it, touches the edges of it. He gets lost in his thoughts again, imagining what Šime would be like in bed. Dejan decides that he would be whiny, a bit squirmy when pushed too far. And he would be giving; maybe he’d wake Dej up every day with a blowjob. It’s his fantasy; he can think whatever indulgent things he wants.</p><p>He palms at his dick and laughs at himself. He’s pining over a convicted criminal who’s currently in prison, all while his wife is downstairs. It’s more of a bitter laugh, really. He touches himself anyway, coming quickly all over his sketch. It’s ruined now, but he’s not worried. He could make a thousand more. </p><p>*</p><p>He knows Šime’s out of jail now. He must be; it’s been three months. His own anxiety is keeping him from searching his name, figuring out where he is.</p><p>This morning came the tipping point, though, when Dejan’s wife left. She had shouted something about another man, another city. He thinks he should be more upset, but he mentally checked out of that relationship months ago. </p><p>He’s sitting somewhat zombie-like on the floor in the living room, some bad late night sitcom flickering away in the background. He types Šime’s name into the search bar on his phone. </p><p>He gets a few pages in and pays some low-rent website too much money for an address.</p><p>“Fucking god.”</p><p>His head falls back against the couch when he realizes the man in question lives just a few streets away. At least according to this sketchy website. He has this insane urge to get up and walk to him, like he could just knock on the stranger’s door and seduce him at three in the morning. Maybe he could.</p><p>God, he wants those paintings back. And he wants to get laid. His head is spinning with all his want. He can never keep up with what he’s got, though. He’s in this big house downtown- a miracle for an artist like him. Not to mention the hordes of people that would pay an arm and a leg for the paintings he has sitting in his studio upstairs.</p><p>His want nags at him anyway, persistently, and he moves his hand up and down his length. He didn’t even bother putting on clothes today, or cleaning up from when he came all over himself a couple hours ago. He’s allowed to be like this today. He’s alone.</p><p>*</p><p>The morning isn’t so forgiving to his flippant attitude towards personal hygiene. He wakes up with a painful knot in his neck, an empty bottle of tequila next to him. Okay, maybe he was upset about his wife leaving. </p><p>He takes a sinfully long shower, scrubbing every inch he can reach and then some. He trims and shaves and tweezes meticulously, like it’ll make up for how lax he’s been the past 24 hours. He glances down at all the hair circling the drain. Maybe more like the past few weeks.</p><p>He can’t just go over to the stranger’s apartment. It would be too weird, too forward. He just wants to paint the man’s portrait. At first, at least. If he’s interested, as most men are in Dej, then he wants to touch. </p><p>Šime’s face would be a beautiful one to paint. Dejan only saw him for a few minutes but the image has taken up permanent residence in his mind. He’s come up with multiple sketches, some which he’s intentionally, thoroughly ruined with his own overindulgence. </p><p>He gets a hand around himself again now. He’s still naked from his shower, and he’s decided to take advantage of his empty house. He calls up one of his acquaintances from the gallery, one of the younger men that fawns over Dejan’s art and touches him on the arm a lot.</p><p>He gets the man naked and open in record time, bent over the kitchen counter. He chose this man only for his hair. It’s messy and curly, easy to grab. They don’t talk, and Dejan takes no mercy on him. The man comes quickly from all the pain and pressure, but Dej takes his time, pulling the man’s hair and coaxing noises out of him over and over. He finally lets himself come deep inside. He’s never been one for condoms, and the man seems happy to be filled up.</p><p>They clean up quickly and Dej sends him away, happy to have taken the edge off. Sometimes his head feels clouded, muddy, and sex is the only thing that clears it. Sex with women for that purpose stopped working long ago.</p><p>He sits down at his desk, starts a letter to Šime. It’s messy and quick, just a simple request to meet and maybe paint his portrait. He includes a sketch as well, in case the man thinks he’s being scammed. </p><p>He slides it in the mailbox before he can chicken out. He’s only in a t-shirt and what most would describe as pajama shorts, but he heads down the street anyway. </p><p>Even at three in the afternoon, he can always find reliable distraction in the bars near the gallery. </p><p>*</p><p>“Oy, you alright?” </p><p>Dejan looks down at his state as he enters the pub. Despite his long ass shower this morning, all the fucking undid most of his progress. </p><p>“I uh, I guess so. She left.” </p><p>“Sit.” Jordan is Dej’s favorite bartender. He slides a beer across to him and waves away payment. “I’m sorry mate. You’ll always have us.” </p><p>“I...wrote a letter to the thief.”</p><p>“Who? The man who stole your paintings?” Jordan’s questions are calm, unconcerned. This is why he’s Dejan’s favorite.</p><p>“Yes. I want to paint him.” </p><p>“Sure that’s a good idea?”</p><p>Dej ignores the question. “I also wanna fuck him.”</p><p>Jordan laughs. “Ah. Let me guess, tattoos and curly hair?”</p><p>“Lots of tattoos. Messy hair, earrings, these dark eyes. I haven’t been able to get him out of my head.”</p><p>“Well then you’ll have to fuck him. It’s like when you have a song stuck in your head. You listen to it so you can forget it.”</p><p>It’s Dejan’s turn to laugh. “I don’t wanna forget him, brate. He’s, I don’t know. He’s special, I think. He’s only 20.”</p><p>“Just a baby.”</p><p>“Just a baby. He made a mistake. I wanna let him know its okay. But you know what struck me was how he did it. He removed hundreds of nails that held the paintings to the frames. He was so meticulous, like he really cared about them.”</p><p>The group that frequents this pub chooses this moment to burst in, loud and already falling over each other. Dej never really remembers their names but it’s a welcome distraction. </p><p>He has semi-regular meetings with one of the men in the group, a taller lightly muscled man who’s always in various dresses and skirts. He’ll sit on Dej’s lap and laugh and kiss him, let his hands wander, and he never wears underwear. He’s a treat.</p><p>“Dejan! I missed you. Where have you been?!” Today the man is wearing a tight red dress, and Dej gets hands on him right away. </p><p>“Been a rough few weeks.” Dej can barely get his words out before he’s being kissed. </p><p>“Hey, he’s in a fragile state. Give him some space.” Jordan’s words are soft, caring, but they make the man in Dejan’s lap pout. </p><p>“Is that true baby? You want space?” </p><p>Dej sighs. He’s hard again but he is exhausted, nervous about getting a response to his letter. </p><p>“Ah, not as much as I want that mouth.” He gets up and pulls his man of the hour into the bathroom, shoving him roughly to his knees once inside. The man- for the life of him Dej cannot remember his name- takes him all in quickly, moaning around it. He knows the rest of the bar hears it so he moans himself, pulling the man off by the hair before coming on his face.</p><p>Dejan contemplates the man for a moment, holding him by the jaw. Maybe he needs to scale this back. He can’t keep coming in and on random men every hour until he hears from Šime. <em>If</em> he hears from him. He doesn’t want to catch something before he even gets to the man he really wants. </p><p>“Goddamn. Alright, get back out there. Clean yourself up, slut.”</p><p>Dej’s voice is rough but affectionate in his own way, and the man smiles. He straightens out his dress, wipes most of the come off his face. Dej walks him back out to the bar, kisses him partly for the attention and partly because he feels bad, and heads home. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Spread Myself Too Thin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dejan had written his phone number down on the letter to Šime, so he frets over every unknown call he gets. He’s calmed down a bit over the last few days though, spending lots of time at the bar but away from too much liquor and too many men. </p><p>He gets a call at the market, picks up absentmindedly while he’s perusing some fruit.</p><p>“Mr. Lovren?” </p><p>“Yes, who’s this?”</p><p>“Um. It’s Šime, the uh- I got your letter.”</p><p>Dej’s heart rate just about doubles, and he abandons his tiny cart of food. He needs some space.</p><p>“Oh, I’m glad you called, Šime. What do you think? Can we meet?”</p><p>“I would like that, yes.” He sounds so nervous, young, and it goes right to Dej’s dick.</p><p>“You free tonight? I’d like to see your place.” </p><p>Šime quietly agrees and Dej stops at the pub on the way home to take some of his energy out on Jordan. He tells him in emphatic detail what he’s been thinking about doing to Šime, if only so he doesn’t say it to the man himself. Jordan just laughs at him. </p><p>Dej heads over as soon as he can so he doesn’t have time to overthink this. He wants it to be somewhat organic, and most of all he wants to see this boy up close.</p><p>*</p><p>Šime opens the door to his tiny apartment and Dej can’t help checking him out, head to toe. He’s wearing a worn out old white tank top, so thin his tattoos are visible through it. His black sweatpants are hiked up around his calves, his bare feet standing in cute contrast to the old wood floors. He has silver jewelry in his ears, around his neck, and his hair is just as disheveled as it was in the courtroom. </p><p>Dej gathers himself after a few seconds to shake hands, take a look around. </p><p>“I um- I know it’s not much. Listen, before you say anything I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I was really high and I- I’m really sorry, sir.”</p><p>Dejan smiles, lifts the smaller man’s face up by the chin. “I’ve already forgiven you Šime, please don’t think I’m mad at you. Everyone makes mistakes, right? I’ve made a lot more of them than you have, I’m sure about that.”</p><p>Šime smiles and it’s beautiful, gives Dej butterflies. </p><p>“Can I get you anything, sir? Water?”</p><p>“Please, don’t call me sir- I’m not that old. You can call me Dejan. Water would be great.”</p><p>Šime blushes at that, and they settle down on the couch. The apartment is a studio, the bed in the corner taunting Dej. Go slow, he tells himself, over and over.</p><p>“So why do you want to paint me? I can’t pay you, obviously.” Šime gestures vaguely at his living space.</p><p>Dejan laughs again. “I don’t paint people because they pay me, I paint them because I think they should be painted.” He touches Šime’s cheek, his jaw. “You’re very beautiful, Šime.”</p><p>Šime swallows, clearly growing uncomfortable with all the attention he’s receiving. He stands up abruptly, grabs a beer from the fridge. </p><p>“I don’t think you’re- I’m not anything special, sir. You’re a great artist, a really great artist. You should paint something worth your time.” </p><p>Dejan’s a little shocked. He’s never seen someone so pretty be quite so down on themselves. </p><p>“Can I have one of those?” Dej takes down half a beer in a second, standing up to get closer to his boy. His, he thinks. Maybe not yet. But in his mind, Šime is his.  And no boy of his is allowed this kind of self-deprecation. </p><p>He gets a little too close to Šime in the tiny kitchen, looking down at him and trying to figure him out, if only a little. “You think I’d waste my time, Šime? I saw you in that courtroom and I didn’t see a criminal, I saw someone who was scared- sad. But beautiful, and I haven’t stopped thinking about this face.” Dej has Šime’s jaw in one hand and a beer in the other, and the smaller man has turned a very deep shade of red. </p><p>“Now,” Dej walks back over to the couch, relaxes back and spreads his legs wide, finishes the rest of his beer. “Sit. Why did you choose those paintings?” He figures even with Šime’s apology there’s still a lot of tension in the room about the whole thing. Dejan hates tension. </p><p>Šime sighs, head in his hands. He already went to prison for this, but this is somehow worse. “Because I loved them. I used to walk by your gallery on the way to work. I always thought they were perfect.”</p><p>Dejan smiles, and he’s not sure Šime could do anything to make him stop. </p><p>“I- I got high and I took them, I’m really sorry okay?”</p><p>“And what happened to them?”</p><p>Šime clenches his jaw. He hates this. “I had to- I sold them. To some sketchy guys. I had to, I was so broke. Now I have even less because the police took the money. I have nothing now.” </p><p>“Sweet boy. It’s okay, it really is. Remember when I said I made mistakes too? It’s part of-“ Dej waves his arms. “This. Growing up. You’re just a kid. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” </p><p>Šime smiles and hugs Dej sideways on the couch, and it’s painfully adorable, his little tattooed arms wrapped around Dej’s torso. </p><p>“Wanna take a walk?” </p><p>*</p><p>They end up at the gallery, and Šime cringes. Last time he was here he was breaking glass to get in, and some of the scars on his arms still haven’t healed from it. They hurt again, now. </p><p>“Don’t be afraid. You’re lucky to be getting a private tour.”</p><p>Dej guides them inside, turns on the lights. “I’d like you to see some portraits. Yours will be better than them, though. You’re prettier.” </p><p>“How did you pick him?” Šime points to a portrait of a man around his age, a nude. </p><p>“He was a great fuck.” Dejan’s eyes don’t leave the painting but Šime looks at him and laughs. </p><p>“That all it takes?”</p><p>“Sometimes. Not having a gag reflex gets you far in life.” </p><p>They both laugh this time, and Dej continues the tour. He answers Šime’s other questions mostly seriously, and he’s actually impressed with the younger man’s knowledge of art. It’s sexy, but then again so is everything else about him.</p><p>Now that the dreaded tension is gone they get along easily, and Dej’s cheeks hurt from smiling. Šime has him laughing more than talking, and soon they’re headed back, Dej guiding Šime by the arm.</p><p>Dej sees him off at the door and walks home. He knows if he goes back into Šime’s apartment tonight he won’t leave. And he wants him, almost desperately, but Šime’s special. He wants to know him first.</p><p>*</p><p>Dej sends Šime a good morning text- he can’t help it. He also can’t help but feel bad about the boy’s living situation, his clearly empty fridge, so he invites him out for lunch. </p><p>He brings a little sketch pad to lunch, just in case. He loves doing portraits in the daylight, and he specifically chose a restaurant with outdoor seating for that reason.</p><p>Šime, it turns out, is even prettier in the daytime. His jewelry sparkles more, and he looks so sweet when he squints from the sun getting in his eyes. Dejan tells him so after they order, and he laughs.</p><p>“You look- you’re very fit as well, Dejan.” Šime’s shy with his compliment, and Dej is just glad he didn’t call him ‘sir’.</p><p>“Mind if I sketch you?”</p><p>“Now?”</p><p>“Yes, I’d like to remember this. The first time I saw your smile in the sunshine.”</p><p>Šime blushes. He’s never had anyone treat him like this- like he’s special. And Dejan makes him feel more than special, like they’re the only people around.</p><p>It’s not a terribly long lunch or a terribly detailed sketch but it’s the best afternoon Dej has had in a long time. Things feel so easy with Šime, like they’ve known each other for years. </p><p>They make a plan for Dej to start the portrait on the weekend. At Dej’s insistence they’ll do it at Šime’s place- he likes painting people in their homes whenever he can. Plus his apartment is so tiny, which is a good excuse to get close.</p><p>*</p><p>“Oof- sorry, thought you were comin’ later.” Šime is absolutely adorable in his sleepy state, even more disheveled than usual. He leads Dej into the apartment anyway, before laying back down.</p><p>“Lemme know when you’re ready, brate.” He’s face down, voice muffled.</p><p>“Not a morning person huh?” Dej laughs at him as he sets up. He wants to climb on top of the younger man, slide into him and fuck him back to sleep. But he resists, reluctantly.</p><p>“Not exactly.” </p><p>Dej rifles through the kitchen and makes them some coffee. Šime perks up when he smells it. </p><p>“Didn’t have to do that.” He finally peels himself out of bed, rubbing his eyes. “Thank you, Dej.”</p><p>He watches Šime take a long drink, and he kicks himself for not jerking off before coming over here. It’s not exactly easy to ignore his urges when he’s trying to paint. </p><p>“Šime, where do you spend most of your time? The couch? The bed?”</p><p>“Probably the couch, why?”</p><p>“Just do what you’d normally do if I wasn’t here. I’d like to paint you how you usually are.”</p><p>Šime smiles. He heads over to the couch and settles in, little feet tucked under him to one side, and turns on the TV. “I don’t have a very interesting life, sorry.”</p><p>“Mmm, can you take your shirt off for me?” Dej asks, mostly ignoring Šime’s admission and sitting next to him on the couch. </p><p>“Do you- do I need to be naked? I don’t usually lounge around naked.”</p><p>“Don’t need you naked yet, just lose the shirt. It’s called artistic liberty.”</p><p>Šime laughs, but he pulls his shirt off anyway, slowly. Dej drinks it in, all the tattoos he hasn’t seen before. Suddenly the couch feels smaller, the bed closer. </p><p>“Beautiful, Šime. Can I?” Dej’s hand is paused next to Šime’s torso, waiting to touch. </p><p>“Yes.” Šime’s voice is shaky, nervous.</p><p>Dej traces the words on his side, the clouds on his shoulder. “Turn around for me?” </p><p>Šime obliges and gives Dej a full view of his back. Dej runs his fingers over all the portraits, down further to the mural just above his waistband, thumbs pressing into the dimples on his lower back. He asks about each tattoo, listens to Šime’s low, breathless answers and grows harder by the second. </p><p>He turns the smaller man around, traces the cross on his chest. Šime looks thoroughly overwhelmed, goosebumps on his arms and a blush that extends down to his neck.</p><p>“Hmm, Šime, would you take these off for me?” Dej touches the waistband of his pants, and Šime nods right away, eyes wide. He lifts his hips up and slides his pants off, revealing a tiny pair of white briefs that aren’t doing anything to hide his boner. </p><p>Dej summons all the self control he has- a rare occurrence- and gets up to sit in front of the easel he prepared earlier. He’s painfully hard but this- teasing Šime, seeing him squirm a bit- seems like the perfect time to capture him.</p><p>“Spread your legs for me? Just like that, perfect.” </p><p>Šime has a bit of a glare going on from being teased like this, leaned back on the couch, one tattooed arm resting on his thigh. His eyes though, they look ravenous, so Dej starts with them. </p><p>“Tell me what you’re thinking.” </p><p>Šime blushes again, looks down, laughs a little. “I’m thinking about how you were touching me.”</p><p>“Keep going.” Dej’s eyes are torn between focusing on the canvas and Šime’s wet dick straining against his underwear, his sweet embarrassed face. He keeps painting though; he is a professional. In some sense of the word.</p><p>“I liked it, and I felt lucky. To- to be touched by you.” </p><p>Dejan is having less and less trouble focusing on painting when he realizes he’s actually able to capture the want in his boy’s eyes, the passion in them. </p><p>Šime slips up a bit when his dick twitches, adjusting his underwear and groaning. Dej has to find his composure again, just long enough to get what he wants out of this session, out of Šime. It’s only the first, after all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Dig It Up and Devour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dejan wraps up their session quickly once he realizes he’s unable to control himself anymore. His dick is twitching, leaking, painful, and he can’t think straight. He wants Šime so much that it aches, an all-consuming feeling that’s hijacked his mind since the first moment he saw the younger man.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gets home frustrated with himself. Why can’t he just fuck Šime? He fucks men all the time, and it’s always been easy. He’s thought of it so many times, but something is stopping him. He calls his brother.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dej, it’s three in the morning here.” Davor’s voice is flat, tired.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I need your help, I want to fuck this guy, this beautiful boy-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t really help you with that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shut up. I want him, but I’m- I’m nervous.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You? You’re nervous?” Davor sounds incredulous. “How hot is this guy?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“He’s </span> <em> <span class="s2">perfect</span> </em> <span class="s1">, I’m painting him, I can’t even keep the brush steady. I wanna fuck him until he can’t walk, until<em> I </em>can’t</span> <span class="s1"> walk. Until he’s-“</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dejan, please.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do I do?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What makes you so nervous? Think he’ll say no?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“His dick was hard the whole time I was painting. But I want it to be as perfect as he is, give him what he deserves.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re thinking too much, Deki. Next session have a few more beers, kiss him and don’t worry so much. Now I have to go back to sleep.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">*</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next day Dej shows up at Šime’s unannounced, hoping to catch him in the same adorable and sleepy state as before. He doesn’t bring his supplies.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Šime opens the door and he seems marginally more alert than last time, but he’s surprised.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dej? What are you doing here so early?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“God Šime you’re- you’re fucking </span> <em> <span class="s2">perfect</span> </em> <span class="s1">, you know that?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dej crowds him against the wall, hands on either side of his head. “I need you. I don’t need anyone, but I need you.” Dej is already breathless, and he pulls Šime’s shirt off, followed by his own. Šime is just trying to keep up, swallowing hard when he sees the older man’s tanned torso, his abs, his chest-</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s snapped out of his trance when Dej grabs his jaw, kisses him deeply. Šime’s already moaning into Dej’s mouth, accepting every touch without question.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dej kisses down his boy’s neck, down to the cross on his chest. He kisses every inch he can get to, making his way down to Šime’s waistband, pulling his shorts down forcefully. He’s met with those same tiny briefs from yesterday, and he shoves his face into the bulge, breathing in.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dejan, fuck, I- I’ve never-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know.” Dej doesn’t look up to reply, he’s too busy mouthing at Šime’s dick through the fabric, drooling on it. He reminds himself not to hesitate, though, and pulls the underwear off.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Šime’s dick is so hard, so wet already, and Dej easily takes him all in. He wastes no time with teasing, his need is too urgent for that. Once his nose hits Šime’s barely-there pubes, he sticks his tongue out to lick at his balls.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“God, I’m not gonna-“ he comes hard in Dej’s mouth soon after that, and Dej pulls off a bit so he doesn’t swallow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stands up looking ravenous, and suddenly Šime realizes that’s not the only time he’ll be coming today. Dej pushes him onto the bed and gets on top, kissing him with a mouth that’s very full of come.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It spills out onto Šime’s lips, his face, into his mouth, and it’s a stupidly messy kiss that makes them both moan. “You taste so sweet, so perfect Šime.” Dej gets up and gets his own pants off, straddles Šime’s face on the bed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn’t have the time or the need to ask for permission; Šime’s already silently asking for it with his mouth open. Dej slides in and it’s so wet with Šime’s come and spit, he can’t help but brace himself on the wall and fuck his mouth right away. Šime chokes but pushes through, moaning and bucking his hips with every thrust.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That mouth, Šime, that mouth, I’ve dreamt of that mouth.” Dej comes without warning down Šime’s throat and it’s loud, and the younger man keeps his eyes open throughout to watch Dej’s muscles flex, his face while he moans.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dej pulls out slowly, lowering down to see his boy’s face again. He strokes his hair, his cheek. “You’re mine, dragi. My Šime. Beautiful boy.” Dej is a little startled at his own words. He’s never felt so possessive, never been so fiercely intent on showing ownership. But he tries not to overthink it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Šime’s in a bit of a haze, but he nods slowly, Dej thumbing his lip. “Yours.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good boy.” Dej reaches around to Šime’s ass, grabbing it before tracing his hole. Šime gasps, tenses up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sweet boy.” Dej flips Šime over, and he desperately wants to shove his cock in his perfect ass, study the mural tattooed on his back and make him moan. But he doesn’t want to hurt him. He wants to make him feel good, so good that he begs for it every time they see each other.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So he lowers down and plants kisses everywhere before spreading Šime’s cheeks. He’s so smooth, doesn’t even have any hair on his thighs. It makes Dej’s mouth water.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He licks from the smaller man’s balls to his hole, circling the rim with his tongue and pushing inside. There’s a desperation behind his movements, an uncontrolled want, a need that he’s never had with any of his men.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Šime meanwhile is coming apart under Dej’s touch, pushing his ass back into it. He didn’t get to fully articulate it to Dej but he’s never been with a man, never even kissed one. He’s suddenly wondering why.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dej opens him up for a bit but then gets on top of him, pulls them both down so he’s spooning his boy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do we- do we need lube?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dej hooks an arm around Šime’s chest, lips to his ear. “Mmm, say my name, dragi, love how you say it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dej focuses on how his name leaves those beautiful lips, over and over, desperately, and guides his dick to Šime’s ass. He thinks for a second that maybe he should tell Šime what he’s going to do, but decides against it. Šime is his, and he can’t imagine the word ‘no’ ever leaving his pretty mouth.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Šime startles when he feels the piss start to soak him, but he’s comforted by Dej’s grasp. “My Šime, getting so wet huh? Gonna make it so easy to fuck you, to fill you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dejan are you- fuck. God, you’re filthy.” Šime’s breathless, pushing his ass backwards into the wet heat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You like this?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, yes please fuck me, please Deki.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dej pauses at that; the only person who ever calls him ‘Deki’ is Davor. It feels so supremely intimate coming from Šime, so perfect, and there’s still piss coming out of his dick, and he feels lightheaded.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He grabs Šime’s face and turns it around and kisses him, looks into his increasingly dark eyes. “Say that again.” His grip is bruising his boy’s jaw already.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck me, Deki, please.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dej quickly flips Šime onto his back and slides into him, the piss and his own precum making it a very wet but tight fit. Šime’s eyes are wide at being opened up so quickly, so intensely.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dej starts a quick pace, lowering down onto Šime to kiss him, whisper praise in his ear. Tell him how he’s wanted him since the moment he first saw him, how he’s touched himself so many times thinking of nothing but his face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Šime is completely overwhelmed at Dej’s words, and the older man makes him feel so good he’s sure he’s imagining this. He’s nothing special, never has been, but he’s almost beginning to believe he is. Dej is so beautiful, so talented, and being his is too much to process. Tears start to trickle down his cheeks, eyes red.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You okay, my Šime?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t believe I- why do I get this? Why do I get you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You? You get anything you want, sweet boy. You have me- all of me- know that? You had me from that first day in the courtroom. My mind hasn’t left you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Šime kisses Dej through his tears, and Dej gets a hand around him so they come at the same time, foreheads pressed together.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dej keeps kissing him, stays inside him until they’ve both come down, until Šime’s tears have dried. He picks him up out of the wet bed, gathers the sheets to throw in the laundry.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll take you back to mine for the day? We can nap, I’ll feed you. I’ll keep painting you.” Dej’s voice is soft, wrecked, and he’s stroking Šime’s cheek. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Šime feels the urge to cry again but instead he smiles, lets Dej dress him and kiss him, hold his hand out the door. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. I’d Let You Do It Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This is your house?” Šime’s incredulous. He shouldn’t be surprised but Dej’s house is massive, filled with paintings and sculptures and plants, sunlight coming through too many windows to count. At least in his state.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You see all these couches, all that counter in the kitchen?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Šime nods.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gonna fuck you on all of them. I have a big house, Šime, it’s gonna take a long time.” Dej has Šime’s now-familiar face in his hands. “We will be busy, yes?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Šime swallows hard, looking up at Dej and hearing his own heartbeat in his ears. He’s excited, almost too horny to think straight. But Dej is...kind of a stranger? He feels like he knows him enough, he just had his dick in his ass. But what if Dej is some hot serial killer who lures dudes to his place just to fuck them and kill them? His dick gets harder at the thought, and he feels a little fucked up about it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Šime? Where did you go?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh- sorry Dejan. I want that, want to be yours, I am yours. Are you- are you gonna hurt me?” He tries not to sound scared and fails miserably.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dej laughs. “Only if you want me to, brate.” He heads toward the kitchen to get them some water, a couple beers. “You think I’d hurt you?” He hands Šime a beer and takes a long drink himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, guess I got scared.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Dej lifts Šime up onto the counter and looks deep in his tired little eyes. “Sweet boy, my Šime. Don’t want you in pain, want you feeling </span> <span class="s2">good</span> <span class="s1">.” He rubs a large hand slowly up the smaller man’s thigh. “Don’t be scared, okay? What do you want for lunch?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dej is being painfully thoughtful and Šime feels inadequate once again. Why does he get such sweet treatment? He keeps his mouth shut about it, though, and kisses Dej.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“‘m not really hungry.” He’s grabbing at the older man’s hands, arms, clearly painfully hard in his little shorts. But he’s so thin he looks like he could break at any moment.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You need to eat, baby. So do I, by the way. Pizza?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Šime agrees and Dej makes the call. As soon as he’s done he tells Šime they have half an hour.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Take those shorts off for me, dragi. Play with your dick.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Šime whines out Dej’s name in his sinful voice, palms himself over his shorts before sliding them off. This isn’t exactly a private spot in the house; he’s in front of about ten windows with a clear view to the outside. But he thinks he would be proud to have anyone see him in this big fancy house with this perfect man ordering him around, so he keeps going.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He works his dick up and down slowly, groaning low and making Dej’s breathing quicken.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s that name you have on your fingers, Šime?” Dej is grabbing his own dick over his jeans, squeezing it in time with Šime’s strokes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Šime blushes suddenly, seems to be caught off guard. “My- my brother. Mario.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you always jerk off with that hand?” Dej starts toward his boy slowly, staring him down.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, Deki, always.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mmm, interesting.” He starts kissing Šime’s neck, shoulders. “This brother look like you?” Dej doesn’t want to freak his boy out but the thought of two of this beautiful boy makes him too horny to have a filter.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dej I don’t wanna talk about that while-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Answer me.” Dej’s command is soft but a little scary, hand tangled in Šime’s hair, so he obliges.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He...I guess he looks like me. He’s younger. Just- just a couple tattoos.” Šime’s still working himself up at a quick pace, rubbing precum around his tip.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And these?” Dej is behind Šime now, one hand gently around his throat and one tracing the hearts tattooed on the back of his arm. Šime swallows hard and gets that feeling of dread again, like Dej is about to snap and hurt him. His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“For my family. One for each of us.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So sweet, Šime. And tell me, how old are you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I thought you knew-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tell me, Šime.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I’m 20, Dejan.” Šime’s still slightly terrified at Dej’s grip combined with this line of questioning. But his dick is still so hard, leaking, and he certainly won’t stop touching it just because of a little fear.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just a baby, yes? My baby, my Šime.” Dej is licking at the back of his neck when the doorbell rings. Suddenly Šime remembers their pizza, wonders if the delivery person saw any of this through the big windows.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dej leaves Šime standing there with his dick in hand to get the door. The younger man scrambles to cover up and Dej just laughs at him, swings the door open anyway.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My boy hungry yet?” He asks Šime before the door has even closed behind him. No shame, Dej has no shame.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, Dej, so hard though, can I come first?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Keep jerking that dick and I’ll feed you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Šime groans at Dej’s words, quickly gets a hand around his dick again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dejan guides Šime so he’s sitting on the floor, back against the front of the couch. The same spot Dej was glued to not too long ago, jerking himself off obsessively and thinking of Šime.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dej kneels in between Šime’s spread legs and watches him for a bit before bringing a slice to his boy’s lips. Šime takes it greedily, moaning around it while he chews.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Goddamn, Šime.” Dej watches the younger man’s hand increase in pace with each bite.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gonna come, gonna come Deki.” Šime’s voice is frantic and his mouth is still a little full and Dej is close too, even though he hasn’t touched himself yet.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He just watches as Šime keeps eating, keeps working his length until he comes hard, mouth full and moaning, face already messy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dej wants to flip Šime over and fuck into him until he passes out but he’s already too close. So he just grips his boy’s thigh and it only takes a couple pumps to come on him, long and hot, and they lock eyes through the whole thing, and it’s perfect. So Dej tells him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re perfect Šime, I’ll never stop telling you that. Perfect man I have.” Dej gets up mid sentence, always at a deficit for attention, and starts setting up for a painting session.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can I clean up, Deki?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hmm, the food yes, the come no. We’ll shower later.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Šime grabs a towel from the kitchen. “You gonna paint come on me?” He’s smiling and wiping his face and Dej almost doesn’t hear the question. </span>
</p><p class="p2">“Think I’ll make it look like sweat. My sweaty Šime after I fuck him. Come leaking out of his ass, but no one will see that. That is for me.”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dej’s eyes and hands are already focused on the canvas but his words make Šime groan, his spent dick stir just a little.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">*</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After Dejan paints and they shower and fuck and swoon at each other some more, the older man suggests they visit a nearby pub.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My friends are usually hanging around, they’re fun.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You want me to meet your friends? Already?” Šime’s words are playful, naked arms around Dej’s neck, clingy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re mine, Šime. And it’s my pub.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The other guys you fuck hang around too?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah. They do but- I stopped doing that. Mostly.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I wanted to uh. Didn’t wanna catch something before I got my boy.” He smiles, pokes Šime in the nose. “And, didn’t want it if it wasn’t you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Šime blushes hard at that. Dej is just. </span> <em> <span class="s2">Known</span> </em> <span class="s1"> for getting a crazy amount of dick. Always, dudes lining up for it, to have a chance to get fucked by this beautiful, talented man. And he just stopped? For Šime? Before they even properly met?</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dejan, what makes me so-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Perfect? Special? I don’t know, Šime. Please, tell me if you- if you want this? With me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Šime feels a little overwhelmed by Dej’s intensity but he tries to find some words anyway. “Of </span> <span class="s2">course</span> <span class="s1"> I do, Dej you have no idea-“</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dej cuts him off once again, this time with a kiss, and throws a shirt on him. “Come on, want them to meet you while you still look fucked.” He grabs Šime by the shoulders and takes a long look at him. “You know what though, you always look fucked don’t you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They both laugh at that, and as they’re walking out the door Dej asks Šime what his secret is. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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